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KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 

EVELYN M. WATSON 


KINGDOM 

BEAUTIFUL 



EVELYN M. WATSON 

Author of "DIVINE FIRE,” etc. 



Publishers 


DORRANCE 


Philadelphia 



COPYRIGHT 1923 
DORRANCE ft CO INC 


' 'PS S 

k's~ 

IflZS. 


©C1A711454 


MANUFACTURED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 

AUG -3 i923 


To My Phyiician and Friend: 
Dr. Arthur G. Bennett 


Acknowledgment is made to the following 
publications: Scribner*s, Lyric West y Keith's 
Magazine of Home Building , Peoples* Popular 
Monthly, Patriot, Our Record , Mt. Union 
College Pennant, Buffalo Illustrated Express y 
Isaac Walton Monthlv y and many others. 


CONTENTS 


The Cloud. 9 

Nasturtiums. 11 

Hyacinths. 15 

Me Swatheart’s Shoes. 16 

The Canyon Cascade. 16 

Sensitiveness. 19 

The Far-Travelers. 19 

Winter Moonrise. 20 

Hollyhocks . 21 

Cups and Saucers. 22 

Eaves-Dropping on a Fairy. 23 

The Mohawk Valley. 24 

Healing Melody. 25 

Concerning Him. 26 

A Negative World. 28 

Trees . 28 

Soul-Hunger . 29 

A Norse Epic. 30 

The Captain ’s Love Log. 33 

Driftwood. 35 

Ocean! Ocean!. 35 

Picture of an Old Canoe. 36 

Honors ... 37 

Halcyon Days . 38 

Storm on the Coast. 39 

Monarch Moths. 40 

Tribute . 41 

Just for You. 41 

“The Emperor’s New Clothes”. 43 
































CONTENTS 


Wild Crocuses of England. 44 

Her Veil. 45 

The Seal .. 46 

Wild Carrot. 47 

The Electric Spark. 48 

The Balances. 50 

The Gypsy Lover. 51 

Order Out of Chaos.*. 52 

Travelin 9 . 54 

November—A Mood. 55 

Fishers . 55 

Swimmin 9 . 56 

Boys . 57 

The Banshee. 58 

An Interview With Winter. 59 

The White Flower. 61 

The American Husband Writes A Sonnet. . 61 

The Baby. 62 

The Seamstress. 63 

The Subconscious. 63 

Introspection . 64 

Beauty-Mad . 66 

The Passing Lady. 67 

Ultimatum .. 68 

Our Land for Liberty. 69 


























KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 





KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 

THE CLOUD 

(Humbly continued for the Age of Aviation) 

Through azure gates where the dawn-star waits 
I ride in rainbow splendor, 

A pearly barge with a holy charge 
To shield the world, defend her. 

I have offered the earth, since the age of her birth, 
Rich raiment of rapturous glory; 

With beauties enrobe the picturesque globe, 
Embellish her time-honored story. 

Dear singers of old have watched me unfold, 

As a script with master-lines penned: 

But poets today now discover new play 
As the man-birds so bravely ascend. 

In living hues the gods might choose, 

I, too, frame a beautiful world, 

’Twixt a glittering sky and the earth I ply, 

With flame in my bosom furled, 

A landscape in flight in regions of light, 

With valleys and mountains and lanes: 

Fantastic my green is and gorgeous each scene is, 
With castles, and grottoes and plains. 

One hour I am rose—to silver it flows, 

To sapphire, and topaz, and gray: 

From oceans of red the crimson has fled, 

And pearl-hued I drift on my way. 

9 


10 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


I foam and I change in colorful range, 

And burn to mysterious mauve,. 

In violet I dip, with purples I drip, 

In-frame an Olympian grove. 

Curved and recurved, buffetted, swerved, 

The traveling wind at my side 
Now binds and then breaks me, now anchors and 
takes me 

Till I honor the Power of the tide. 

One hour I am torn, then re-youthed and reborn, 
In scintillating fire, 

To follow far Plan unopened to man— 

Give site to the Unseen Choir. 

Substance of sun and filmy web spun 
In dews distilled by the sea, 

I bear the great Bow as I ebb and I flow 
My course transplendently. 

When seen from above I quicken to love 
Those poets who surely shall write 
Of my plateaus and glades, my rare burning 
shades, 

And that ‘ ‘ orbed maiden ’ 9 in white. 

Once called a mere cloud, and regarded a shroud, 
Each age shall see me anew. 

Let carillion ringers and cycles of singers 
Now carry my message to you. 

Come here from below, as my colors fast flow 
In burning, opaline changes; 

When the Cynthia slender, and gentle and tender 
Is dancing across my fair ranges, 

Come visit the grove of majestical Jove; 

The fiery, great sun is his throne, 

And notice that tide where rainbows abide, 

Then choose this world as your own. 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


11 


On a burnished crest wait long and rest, 

Oh, man-bird, sailing far: 

Before you rise the flaming skies 
Your Soul, a Living Star! 

(Interpretation of an aviator’s report, 1922.) 


NASTURTIUMS 

Gnomes! 

Take now that skin-white tissue and cut such 
shapes, 

Such quaint, irregular forms, they’ll tease the eye 
Of woman and set her most capricious fancy 
Into flight: some dip in cinnabar 
That clings in shining, paint-bright crimson 
clots— 

Lay thick the gold gamboge until they’re furred 
Like certain honored ancient masterpieces. 

Then drop each flower in flowing tinctures of 
flames, 

—Some rose, some gold, some tawney-red, some 
ember— 

Others of amber, mulberry, orange hues 
That blend and change, reflecting each the light 
In variant ways, gorged with furious color, 

The tones of fire itself beyond all words! 

And let them all absorb of flame its nature, 
Curling in evanescent flowerlike flashes; 

Let each partake of fire that reaches high 



12 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


Until they rise and trumpet abroad their flaring, 
Their blazing symphony of startling glory. 

Let flamy hues arise from rainbow-tinted gardens 
Like fires from out an opal of iris tones. 

Their phalanx of shining, shieldlike leaves 
suggests 

A stabbing Sword of Light to flash afar 
Unsheathed in Beauty’s hand, Excalibur 
Of living Fires Divine, protecting man. 

Let poets play at naming flowers, pastime 
For these in whom the serious-minded hopes 
With frivolous fancies blend. This “pale con¬ 
vention * 1 

Can only name the flowers and toy with words. 
Our work it is to fashion forms of light 
In true poetic shapes and use the scale 
Of pure chromatic lyric colors to dye 
The tender tissues and stain the fabric fast. 

Go pinch that petal and may that honey-spur 
Be filled with queen-bee wine and let us add 
Savory spice, the odor of sanctity. 

For fragrance the spice will do, but add the odor 
Of earthly cleanliness as if the soul 
Of the very soil were abiding fast within 
Each stem. And let the seeds be fit to eat, 

A pungent, delicate, fairy condiment. 

The reddish night-black blooms are far too scarce 
To mingle in with lavish hand! Haste, too, 

You gnome, to trim yon group of stems. 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


13 


Go call the gnome who touches the tulip cups 
And pencils the fleur-de-lys and bid him bring 
His errant pen to ink the blossom-hearts, 

(And write the rules for the burdened, hasty bee). 
May every pen-line show, and every splash 
Of crimson ink, until his horn-shaped shell 
Of pearl is empty, his pen of thorn is dulled. 

Here with that torch! Bronze now the edges well 
With fire that shines like ruddy sunlit jewels. 

Just leave these whitish-yellow blooms alone: 
They failed to take the pigment, seem as pale 
As masks of those who fear a sudden death— 
(The flowers have braver spirits than men at 
times) 

But blanched and coward colors are often set 
Among the rest in conspicuously studied con¬ 
trasts. 

A woman ’s flower ? Nasturtiums—you Ve guessed 
aright! 

For gentle woman's nature seems to be 
To love the odd and varied shapes and forms. 

The queer and individual things appeal to her, 
But man prefers the class, the ordered rule; 

It's she who seeks the crooked, troubled things, 
The spirit-rent, the labored and oft-oppressed, 
The strange, the different and seems to find 
In each a sweet and personal perfection. 

That beauty which smiles in occult ways inspires 
Her winsome fancy, childlike, but seldom childish. 
(Oh, even fallen objects have charm for her!) 

A man prefers the quilled dial of a dahlia 
To plot and count and figure out by compass. 
The mechanical regularity provokes 
His steady mind to thought-—he seldom fancies 


14 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


Anything: the average man is meant. 

The poets stand apart, untouched by rules, 

Not often breaking but making laws—for others. 

Nasturtium flowers! The garden’s mystic flame! 
Some happy wife will treasure every bloom; 

Will gather buds, and leaves and fragrant vines 
To decorate her linen-mantled table. 

The passion-fires of maturity will bum 
In the heart of her when that she sees the flowers; 
She’ll set a bowl, a kindled brazier blazing 
Upon her mantle place above the fireless 
Summer-sleeping grate, and utter prayers 
In broken exclamations of delight: 

She’ll thank our God for such a charm-filled 
world, 

And laugh through trouble-tears. She knows the 
Fire 

Of life can never die where love abides. 

Her garden altar-spot brings Love to her. 
Fearsome the world without the flame of flowers! 

But these are woman’s own Nasturtium blooms! 
That’s why we make each blossom different. 
Come, gnomes, I’ve tried to talk to human-kind— 
A rather thankless task—I’ll mould those stems! 
Come, haste, for summer’s almost here, 

The blazing sun of hot July should find 
Symbolic flowers to speak for many passions. 
And you who made the maiden rose so fair 
Now turn your idle hands to even harder 
And more exacting tasks—Nasturtiums bright. 
There’s only a fleeting season for every task: 
Clip ageratum brushes and set to work. 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


15 


The rose has helped to guide the world, but here 
The cross, cruciferae, has done a vital 
And fundamental work to feed the world. 

The rose and cross in many guises rise 
To show that beauty and usefulness are dual, 

Yet one, and nature's product equally, 

To make a paradise for man. 

The rose and cross in every realm are joined 
To serve. Nasturtium flowers reflect the cross. 


HYACINTHS 

I saw the springtime's first parade! 

Each shining head with gay cockade 
In blue and pink and white arrayed— 
Tri-colors brightly glowing! 

A valiant army with flags unfurled 
Across the garden gaily hurled 
Formations of color to win the world— 
Blossoms gaily blowing! 

Each shoulder bore a gleaming blade 
And from each sheath a spear-point played: 
Bank on rank, a colonnade 

The color-files were showing! 



16 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 
ME SWATEHEART’S SHOES 


Me swateheart wears sich daintsy shoes 
That 'tis not Oi could christhen thim; 

Not onny name that Oi might choose 
Could iver answer half me whim. 

Me dearie has sich whimsy shoes— 

So ravin ' swate the things she wears— 

They cuddles dost beneath her gown, 

Loike livin', lovin' things, in pairs. 

They're likkle mice a-peepin' out— 

The wee, gray slips me swateheart loves— 

Betoimes Oi call thim rabbits, squirrels— 

Jist maybe they are mated doves! 


THE CANYON CASCADE 

Oh, if fires and dews could mingle in a single quick 
quintessence, 

And if foam and flame could flow on the breast 
of a broad, bright river, 

Then would you know the glimmer of the sunlight 
leaping through it, 

How the myriad colors change and multiple 
rainbows quiver. 

Yes, the singing of the canyon is the paean of 
prairies 

Where the colors won from heaven blend with 
notes of Perfect Sound, 



KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


17 


Bringing brave and bridal glories and such rich, 
romantic stories 

That one feels the brimming fragrance of the 
loveliness around. 

The heartening green of hillsides, the snowy white 
of summits, 

The golden gift of gladness of the happy birds 
in flight, 

The echoing of the caverns and the mysteries of 
the waters 

Reflect themselves in splendors fit to daunt the 
Spirit’s sight. 

The cascade of the canyon has a cadence like to 
marching, 

Like songs of mighty heroes all rejoining in 
their birth, 

For if flame were turned to laughter and if fires 
were given voices, 

You’d then know the echoing rhythms of that 
ceaseless, chanting mirth. 

Though I’ve traveled far to Eastward and have 
wandered in the West, 

There were never truer welcome than the clois¬ 
tered canyon sings: 

Though I seek the old earth over for an earthly 
grot and altar, 

I find the Place-of-Rainbows is the spot to meet 
the King. 


18 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


Oh, the cascade of the canyon is the Thought and 
Act of Heaven; 

Its eternal waters flowing come afar from 
boundless seas; 

It were well to pause, reflecting, and to offer great 
thanksgiving, 

Asking power to understand it and its echoing 
prophecies. 

It is voice, and living vision, and is prayer that’s 
limned in wonders; 

It is speech for those who love her, dear Nature 
and her Lord: 

It’s a chorus and a pageant, and the mothering 
croon of waters, 

A harmony of harmonies, the great Celestial 
Chord. 

Note how fires and floods can mingle in a single 
quick quintessence, 

How multiple radiance flows and myriad rain¬ 
bows quiver: 

May you catch the living splendors as the sun¬ 
light leaps within it, 

Heavenly fires and dews a-flowing in the breast 
of a broad, bright river. 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


19 


SENSITIVENESS 

I am rose to the rose, and fire to the sun: 

Green with gay leaves; where fleet waters run, 
I am silver-toned blue, and beneath the dawn-mist 
I am opaline azure, and clear amethyst. 

I am black with the night and flash with the stars— 
With oceans I beat the harbor’s safe bars: 

I sing with the birds and grow with the grass 
And ride the bright clouds that over me pass: 

I am gold with the primrose and fire with the sun 
And blue-burnished silver where fleet rivers run. 


THE FAR-TRAVELER 

Fame of stars! Burnished cities gleaming 
In noonday glory! Picture-lovely lanes 
Through witching valleys—friends! For each a 
symbol. 

And as the rhythmic ocean, ceaselessly, 

Reaches to farther ports, beneath lonely voids 
Of sky, wooing the measureless distances, 

How beautiful a lighthouse tower at night 
Casting heroic beams—a kindly nurse 
On constant duty, or standing at dawn, gull-white, 
Impressive in simple dignity—one friend! 



20 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


Cities of many moods, lanes that thread 
Our smaller, picture-pretty memories, 

Flame of stars (some flashing as driven torches, 
And some as sconces against a stately wall); 

It is I who feel as a hungry ocean—the voids, 
My loneliness—with wonder-fear, I come 
To many ports, eager to find the strange 
And spirit-new; and then in solitude 
I pass along unpeopled coasts of countries un¬ 
explored. 


WINTER MOONRISE 

All silent, like a picture limned in frost, 

I see the twilight flow among hills and trees— 
The dim, bleak, snow-marked hills and naked 
trees 

And valley farm home’s snowy mansard roof 
Make silhouettes against the wan, grey sky. 

Cold colors dimly tremble through the west, 

To rise and shift across the darkening dome: 
The sun, a rayless disk of burnished bronze, 
Appears to sink within a sea of lifeless gold 
Whence dying lights inflame the sky, and mark 
With fire the narrow-mullioned windows of the 
house 

And touch the snowy-tinseled trees with crimson 
lights. 


And, as the grey of sky, 
With all its transient western glory sinks 
Within the limitless, uncharted blacks 



KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


21 


Of night, the moon, a silent crescent, brightens 
Against the dark, wherein the snows now glitter 
As frosts which lie upon the cold, still earth. 

A faint light trembles through the north.— ’Tis 
night. 

There comes a cold, bright thought—that light 
Is seldom absent, quite, from out our sky. 

The total pitch-black hours are very few; 

If not the sun, then moon and stars prevail, 
Reflected glory bring to grace life’s nights, 

And winter has the stars of snow to speak, 
Symbolic manifest of God’s protecting love. 

A shivering beggar, smiling at the moon, 

I find contentment for this winter dark of mine. 


HOLLYHOCKS 

City folks in busy flocks 
Ought to see our hollyhocks, 

Like country maidens in gingham frocks 
Across the fences noddin’. 

For pleasures people rush around 
But never was such beauty found 
As comes from out the moist, dark ground 
With jist a mite o’ proddin’. 

Cherry an ’ amber, an ’ pinks without name, 
Yaller an’ scarlet an’ crimson a-flame, 
Ruffled an’ scolloped, an’ smilin’ the same 
On folks from country or city. 



22 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


From snowdrift white to flashin’ red, 
Did you ever see sich beauty spread? 
I’d ruther be alive than dead— 

Oh, ain’t they pretty? 


CUPS AND SAUCERS 

Beauty, Beauty, where do you bide— 

Out in glad meadows, the sun beaming wide ? 
High on a hillcrest where cloud-barges float? 
Or down by the shore in a shallop-shell boat? 

Lady, Lady, here’s where I hide, 

Right in your cupboard, spotless inside! 

Here patterns of linen and silver so bright 
And sweet cups and saucers gleam with the light. 

Beauty, Beauty, where do you stay— 

Garmented well in silken array? 

High in a castle, magic and grand, 

Or riding your chariot over the land? 

Lady, Lady, here’s where I stay, 

Right in your cottage, so cozy all day! 

With crisp gingham frock and a sunshiny face 
I give to your kitchen my bounteous grace. 

Beauty, Beauty, how do you feast— 

On dainties and spices far from the East? 
Lady, Lady, bewitched by the moon, 

I dine from gay dishes and use a bright spoon. 



KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


23 


Beauty, Beauty, where do you sleep— 

Upon the blue waves of waters so deep, 

With a white-crested billow to pillow your head, 
And the bed of the sea to frame your dear bed? 

Lady, Lady, Beauty is here, 

A friend and companion, glad to be nearl 
I sleep on white pillows and never fare far, 

For I love this bright street where cottages are! 


EAVES DROPPING ON A FAIRY 

Behold the lady in yonder home! 

Fetch me a golden dishpan, gnome! 

A gleaming lily cup will do. 

Fetch me shells in mauve and blue. 

One thing only my spirit wishes: 

I, too, must wash some tinkly dishes. 

I’ll dip the seashells well in dew, 

In perfumed mist, a time or two, 

And wipe them bright on a silky leaf, 

(Or use my pocket handkerchief !) 
Scullion, I’ll box thy saucy ear! 

Hasten, hasten out of here! 

The lady is sweeping her dainty room: 
Fellow, bring some flower-of-the-broom! 
Whisk away, whisk away, find me a plume, 
For I must make ready a lovelier room. 

Buy me a mat, a broad lily-pad, 

Some fur-of-a-mouse, the best to be had! 



24 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


The lady is beating her cream-colored hatter: 
Hear the clatter, the clatter, the musical clatter! 
Poppy seeds black, and brown caraway, 

And plenty of spice to make people gay. 
Sunflower and hollyhocks seed for my cakes, 
For the old sun boils, and the old sun bakes. 

She’s washing dishes! Again? How vain! 
I’m tired to death—I cannot explain. 

I ’ll surely be glad when my work is all done: 
And where am I? Why, I haven’t begun! 

I hope he forgets the panful of dew, 

The broom, and the mat, and the seashells, too! 


THE MOHAWK VALLEY 

“I never saw so sweetly wild a spot.”—Mrs. 
Trollope. 

Ah, sweetly wild! And what mysterious 
Great Power abides among these solitudes? 
Over silver-flooded chasms, mountainous, 

What rich, affectionate beatitudes! 

Through open glens by monarch trees surrounded, 
Picked bright with flowers, each garnet berry 
gleaming, 

We note the place where Indian hunters sounded 
Their council calls, near by the river streaming. 



KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


25 


Where dusky maidens, garbed with skin of doe 
Paused, laughingly, to drink from hidden 
springs, 

Where painted warriors chose to come and go, 
With pride bring forth the season’s offerings, 

Where birds with vivid plumage mounted boughs, 
To sing their age-old praise of love and light, 
To daily greet the sun with sacred vows, 

Then chirp most delicately throughout the 
night, 

Where waters sang, and willows swayed in tune, 
There creature of woods and fen was unafraid; 
It’s here we face a treeless waste, too soon, 
Unless we treasure every glen and glade. 

These spots so sweetly wild were meant to stand, 
An Eden-gate to earthly paradise, 

Where famished souls may find the Promised 
Land 

As free as good without one thought of price. 


HEALING MELODY 

Dear, dear, that singing voice of yours, 
Clear, clear, in all its feeling range: 

Hear—hear as melody secures 
In us a spirit-change. 

Thus you come as Song to heal, make whole, 
Harmony to right the broken chords, 
Rhythm to cleanse the spirit, fill the soul 
With Beauty’s own rewards. 



26 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


Fleet, fleet, the vivid notes mount high; 

Beat, beat, oh hearts! And hold that needed 
treasure! 

Sweet, sweet the fact we shall not die 

But live each vibrant measure. 

Thus each broken spirit lives embraced, 

Held in bands of tenuous, healing song: 
Time and space and woe are all effaced 
And we arise, made strong! 


CONCERNING HIM 

I choose a cheerful God whose thoughts are Bene¬ 
dictions, 

Who puts a sparkling crown upon the mountain 
brows 

In gypsy splendor and covers earths time-old 
afflictions 

With merry-making mantle, and pins it on with 
posies— 

Who gives the Spark of Courage that helps us 
meet our vows, 

Makes stinging winter bring the burning blush 
of roses! 

I seek a smiling God who plants the rocks with 
vines, 

Who circles spar-jeweled seas with shining, 
creatured sands, 

Who fills the colored fruits with ready, tempting 
wines 



KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


27 


That, taken fresh, but hearten us to hope and 
laughter; 

A God who gives a sense of fun and understands 

His breathless round of change is what our 
souls are after! 

I find a friendly God whose sun is ever ruddy, 

Whose Hall of Feasts is studded most magically 
with gems, 

Who shows Himself our like, a daily, helping 
Buddy. 

A God who bids the traveling birds to sing 
their joys— 

And not some far-off King with change of dia¬ 
dems, 

But one who puts the comic note in little boys! 

My God is very wise, hut very simple-hearted, 

With singleness of mind He ever looks within— 

(How desolate my life, should I from Him be 

parted!) 

How sweet my consciousness of One who pours 
forth pleasure— 

Till grief seems selfish greed, and sorrow like a 
sin— 

Mine is a cheerful God and He gives His Gospel 
Measure! 


28 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


A NEGATIVE WORLD 

When winter’s snow-etched grasses gaily gleam, 
My bright and curtained window fails to beam! 
For frosts so form I cannot see who pass 
Outside (though neighbors often call). The glass 
Is fogged. Fantastic, changing mist, 

Then flowers appear and lifelike leaflets kissed 
With rainbow tones. Next bushes come to view, 
Brocaded shrubs and forested mountains, true 
As life itself! It’s painted there so still, 

I call the scene “The World of the Window Sill.” 
Where white is thickest dainty caverns now 
Are deep! Beneath a fine-etched balsam bough, 
I note a fallen log, with knots! A pond, 

The fronds of fairy ferns that shine beyond! 
But never, never a church with belfry steeple— 
Oh, where are the houses, pray? And where are 
the PEOPLE? 


TREES 

When troubles press, I seek some tree 
And note the way it meets each storm: 
Then comfort comes, and sympathy, 
Growing, and spirit-warm. 

Such trees have framed my little house; 

Its lines, like theirs, are strong yet tender. 
These friends have served my home, besides 
Offering their silent splendor. 



KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 29 

The boats I ride have decks of wood, 

Their masts are sentinel pine and spruce, 

And trees have offered the best of food, 

And other things of use. 

Summer shadows outside my door, 

Barriers against the blast, 

And fire to give me warmth and cheer, 

From trees, so strong, steadfast. 

A famished world without such trees! 

For bread and wine and song and bough— 
The selfless trees both guard and grant 
Our “happiness enow.” 

Among the trees a Master prayed 
And on a tree He later died, 

And lofty trees, like chapel spires 
Thus call us to His side! 


SOUL-HUNGER 

Clearly not roses, maiden-beautiful, 

Nor shapely lilies, heaven-dutiful: 

Nor luminous hyacinths on hidden stalks, 

Nor zinnias, marigolds, nor twinkling phlox; 
Neither purple asters nor blazing golden-rod, 
Nor vines, engrossing with lovely traceries the 
sod. 

But busy hands, in service motioning, 

Soft as dawn, delicate as spring: 

Hands of children, brown in useful play, 



30 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


The gnarled hands of age, of yesterday; 

Tinted hands, violet-lined, caressing: 

Her eager hands, her youthful loveliness con¬ 
fessing ! 

Not windows smiling upon a cheery street, 

Nor shop doors flung out wide to restless feet: 
Not books, like doors, opening to worlds apart, 
Nor garden-close where flaming bird wings dart: 
Not gateways never latched, nor roadways fair, 
Nor stairs on which a pilgrim may ascend in 
prayer. 

But true, eternal friend, compassionate, 

Sustain me while I meet the wiles of fate— 
Your smiles reflect a dear beatitude, 

Your words convey the Spirit’s daily food: 
When you are here, my priceless, unnamed spouse, 
Peace gardens me and heaven frames my house! 


A NORSE EPIC 

The song of the sea is a chant, melodious, 
rhythmic: 

The sough of the surf is cadence, measured and 
ceaseless: 

The boom of the breakers, re-echoing, responding, 
is music — 

Today is Eternal, a theme in rhythms repeated — 

From Vaultless to Boundless the melodious meas¬ 
ures are Nordic . 



KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


31 


Symphonic the music of nature, epic and grieving: 

Moaning since ears have listened to cadences 
uttered. 

Norsemen have heard since the beginnings of 
knowledge and sorrow, 

Offering their bright, living bodies to sources of 
rhythms. 

Strong their boats, as the chanting, great hearts 
of their seamen, 

As through intricate courses of sad-singing waters 
they hasten: 

Proud of their vessels, of timbers hard-grained 
and well-fashioned 

And manned by a brave, giant people through 
vast troubled oceans. 

Vikings themselves, sons of the stars and the 
waters, 

Fearless they ride the remorseless currents to 
safety. 

High the mountains of breakers, green as their 
hillsides, 

Gull-like and sweeping each galley above the 
Great Terror. 

Fleece-white their hair, and gold the prow of each 
vessel, 

Cutting most dazzling courses of spray-spume 
and rainbows. 

Blue their eyes as seas in the glittering sunlight 

And gold the stain of their bodies so tall and so 
stalwart. 


32 KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 

Singing they go, chanting their sea-songs so mel¬ 
low, 

Each swift-skimming crescent of gold riding the 
white-caps, 

Cleaving a wake in the waters, till the Monster 
subsides, 

The fabled Serpent unknown with jaws set for 
sailors. 

Land as rich as a garden! Viking their guer¬ 
don— 

Hopeful their hearts as they build them a cairn 
and a symbol: 

(Leaving the bones of their leader were record 
sufficient) 

Nordic, their end, simple, unpraised and unhon¬ 
ored. 

Singers are they and doers, riders of oceans, 

Finders, explorers and masters of great under¬ 
takings. 

Theirs the spirit of heroes with endings as epic: 

Willing to live and to die, courageous and humble. 

Nordic our visioning heroes, our conquerors, 
explorers: 

(Others may seek for the glories and pageants 
more temporal) 

But courage that lives is not for the time but the 
Timeless: 

Nor for itself does it seek, but for others it 
suffers. / 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


33 


The song of the sea is a chant, Nordic and mighty, 

The sough of the surf and the boom of the break¬ 
ers are music, 

The rhythm of courage, the march-time that leads 
men to battle, 

To reach through the Boundless and seek for the 
Sources of Beauty . 

Rhythm long clings to the chambers of silence 
and spirit, 

For the song of the sea is a chant, Nordic and epic. 


THE CAPTAIN’S LOVE LOG 

When that I ride the vivid wastes of sea, 

In silences, I hear a spirit-call: 

As sunsets paint familiar scenes ashore, 

I feel you near, in lovely madrigal. 

Alone upon the bridge I look afar 

(As if some glass could show your face or 
form); 

But clouds their hovering w T ings of black unfurl, 
And on such pinions bear a brutal storm. 

And when the sea runs high, I better hear 
That pulsing song, more sweetly than before, 

For purer sounds are often heard above 
The ocean’s fearful, fascinating roar. 

Love’s gentleness is justly part of life, 

A love that comes when other joys seem fled: 

I grieve because you are no more on earth, 

And not because you’re counted ’mong our 
dead. 



34 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


For me you live, a helpful memory, 

A consciousness of kindly hands, a heart 

That bids me nobly greet the braggart gale 
As long as life shall keep us far apart. 

I greet these days of trial, look forward to 
The time I anchor on that Farther Strand: 

But safely must I bring the hull to port, 

And every day most honorably command! 

To me experience is rolling sea 
On which men fare to find their dreams in store: 

Today, which offers much to men, must be 
A prophecy of finer trove ashore. 

As love is part of joy (and justly shines, 

A polar star that guides through every sorrow) 

I feel you walk the pier across the Bay 
To greet and guide me on to that new To¬ 
morrow. 

Sometimes, when on the brilliant-colored main, 
I note a graceful gull adrift the blue, 

A slender tower against the skies at port .... 
And all that’s beautiful brings me to YOU! 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


35 


DRIFTWOOD 

Intense the charm of driftwood fires, 

Weird, yet lovely, the wind-fanned flames— 
As against the vistaed night they flare: 

Blue—violet—green, one scarcely names 
The blending color-rhythms there. 

To transient fires the campers come: 

In companionship they bask and lie 
Watching the vivid-colored light 
Yearning to reach the star-strewn sky; 

Intense and strange each tale, each plight— 
Driftwood flames that flare and die. 


OCEAN! OCEAN! 

Ocean! Ocean! Puzzling woman, dressed 
In shimmering emerald satins touched with lace 
In rare designs of foam that lend rich grace 
Across your broad, voluptuous, mothering breast. 
What wondrous ports are by your presence 
blessed! 

How restlessly you turn from place to place 
With varying moods: your arresting, lovely 
face 

Has searched with longing both the East and 
West. 



36 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


Perplexing creature, lovesome, cruel, wild: 
Within such mothering womb new earths are 
born— 

Your tides have travailed many a yearning 
child— 

Your lovers die embraced, yet most forlorn: 
Temptress of men, and woman’s symbol! Mild, 
Sweet Mary’s grace is yours and Borgia’s scorn! 


PICTURE OF AN OLD CANOE 

“The Old Canoe” as limned in your book 
(Which is resting agape on my desk), 

Seems ever to say, as I scan it each day: 

“Come, tell me your heart’s dear request! 
Then I’ll take you away to the Breaking-of-Day 
And over swift waters that croon— 

Your castles you’ll see if you journey with me 
As far as the Gates-of-the-Moon. 

I’m a magic canoe, so the Universe through 
A silvery course you will go— 

For I’m manned by a sprite whose dearest delight 
Is to launch me afar for a row. 

He will whispering say, as we ripple away, 

‘ Come on, my dear child, and find dreams! 

I will guide you afar to the home of your star— 
You can live in the light of its beams! 

There’s magic in rowing, so come, let’s be going 
To places you’ve long wished to be; 

To cottages quiet, where gardens are riot, 

To caves by the murmuring sea!’ 

(Thus, my Master, speaks he!) 



KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


ST 


‘‘That shell of a thing (for my spirit took wing), 
That skeleton called a canoe— 

It’s only a sign (the body was mine), 

But my SPIRIT is calling to you! 

For my spirit and his (my master and I) 

Can tell you some secrets of ages— 

So come, get in motion, from ocean to ocean 
We’ll follow the quest of the sages! 

As you travel my trail you will come without fail 
To the place of your hearts dear delight— 

If your spirit is true I will carry you through, 
Beyond the mad rivers of Night! 

You must feel, my dear friend, as my keel rounds 
each bend, 

That spirit is master of strife— 

The spirit’s the thing, as onward we swing— 
The Past, Present, Future of Life! 

Pity not the old sign—that body of mine— 

For wonders are ever in store, 

So, come, let’s be going, there’s magic in rowing, 
And leave the old hull on the shore— 

Broken, to lie on the shore. 


HONORS 

No other honors!—Let me pace some coast 
And view sun-netted seas afar and boast 
A pocketful of story-conjuring shells, 

And let me hear what the ancient ocean tells; 
I love the showy, blending curves of gulls, 

To watch strange fish that move ’mong sunken 
hulls. 



38 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


So let me see from the Spirits mountain range 
Unfolding vistas glorious and strange— 
Medallioned towns, the traceries of streams; 
Imprisoned beauty snatched from age-old dreams, 
Lakes so wondrous and beauty-blessed, 

They gleam like jewels on Nature’s breathing 
breast. 

From misty heights that scan far-travelling stars, 
I ’ll chance to ‘ ‘ listen in ” on heavenly bars, 
Anthems pure, attuned to meters true; 

Perhaps I’ll hear old masters speak, and view 
New worlds, and speed with light, overtake 
Sun-pictured histories of worlds awake! 

I seek no other honors, foolish, gleaming 
With clanking medals—another part of “seem¬ 
ing”-— 

But through the tides of earth and air and sea, 
I seek to live each Opportunity. 


HALCYON DAYS 

Not a rift or movement of cloudless sky 
The much-wearied vision to greet, 
Except the line of horizon high 
Where sky and waters meet: 

Nothing to break the monotonous hush 
Of the pensive solitude— 

Over the sea and sky, the evening’s flush 
In drowsy quietude. 



KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


39 


The waves no longer sob and sigh 
To break in sparkling spray 
But on the beach they listlessly die 
Or, murmuring, wander away. 

Not even a breeze steals in from afar, 

But lazily rolls the sea— 

Beats querulously against the bar 
And whispers restlessly. 

Unbounded stretch the beach and sky, 

A shoreless main, the sea— 

Manifold murmurings make reply 
To questions whispered me: 

The voice of the sea has endless to tell, 
Like the measureless heavens above— 
The song of the ages is endless as well— 
Bespeaking limitless Love. 


STOEM ON THE COAST 

The dramatic storm, wailing its sinister tale of 
tragedy, 

Flashes its epithets of rage, lashes the monster 
sea, 

And hurls its violent thunderbolts—incessant the 
awful clashes. 

It rives the throat of the streams, cutting the 
tree-crowned cliff with gashes, 

Burns the tinted, rolled-back curtains of silent 
atmosphere; 

Brings a strange, weird odor, filling each bur¬ 
dened heart with fear, 



40 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


Imposing a horror upon us. As earth beneath ua 
rocks and quakes, 

We pray for beloved morning, when the kindly 
Spirit of Order awakes. 

Oh, surging storm across the swelling sea, the 
tumbling sea, 

Kin of the Spirit’s tempest! We long for love’s 
tranquility. 


MONARCH MOTHS 

(An island near Toronto, Ontario, Sept. 17,1917.) 

My world is alight with golden colors, 
With tawny mists, and the topaz bay 
Is part of a mystic, amber island 
Where monarch moths pattern their way 
Across the skies as they move in rhythm, 
Majestically, like living flame 
That weaves and flashes harmonies— 
What monarchies are theirs to claim! 

In golden dusk they nearer come 
To hang upon a yellowed tree, 

Myriad wondrous leaves, they flutter, 

Then change about fantastically— 

Such scene will live in memory, 

And love of color long endear it, 

When autumn’s misted sunlight glows 
I’ll view these monarchs of my spirit. 
Whither bound, those argosies 
Of gleaming life?—I often ask; 

Mine to honor Beauty’s power, 

Her message spread—a monarch’s task. 



KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


41 


TRIBUTE 

Heaven were never Paradise 

And gates of pearl not worth the price 

Without Pierette and dear Pierrot. 

Let austere Angels come and go, 

Let grave Archangels vastly shine, 

But bring to me sweet Columbine. 
Most regal Powers both out and in 
Could not deny dear Harlequin. 

These were —they did not imitate— 
Great souls that live in high estate. 

A holy land without its laughter 
Is not the spot my spirit’s after. 

A resting-place without Pierrot 
And gay Pierette were staid and slow: 

I hope the Saints will sing together 
A rousing “glee,” then flirt a feather 
Beneath the noblest Martyr’s chin 
To feast the soul of Harlequin! 


JUST FOR YOU 

I see the quiet years a-coming down the street, 
The fat and chummy married years with jolly 
feet, 

Their homely faces beaming in the merry sun, 
Their happy eyes all dancing bright with whole¬ 
some fun. 



42 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


One offers “cabbages all growing in a row,” 
One tenders flowers that in a village garden grow, 
Another brings a ring of sparkly, jingly keys, 
To unlock for us the mysteries of brooks and 
trees. 

A chuckly, roguish, smiley one I must not miss 
Comes shyly with a round and rosy, red-ripe kiss; 
He will not speak of it, but you and I will see 
He symbolizes me-for-you and you-for-me! 

And so they troop, each bearing us an offering, 
The fairy summer light, the misty buds of spring, 
The ruddy glows of autumn, winter’s friendly fire, 
The richest recompense of all our hearts’ desire. 

What friendships, favors, larks and lengthy trips 
they’ve brought, 

Dear homey memories—long hours of silent 
thought, 

And years of comradeship, through fair or frown¬ 
ing weather, 

The busy come-and-go of life, all met— together! 

So let’s enjoy these wholesome gifts, together 
greet 

The Quiet Years of life a-coming down the street; 
Their homely faces beaming in the kindly sun, 
Their laughing eyes alight with playfulness and 
fun. 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


43 


“THE EMPEROR’S NEW CLOTHES” 

Certain newer poetry is forced, 

Obscure, seemingly devoid of rhythm, 

Of normal accent that even speech acquires. 

I somehow come to think of an olden tale 
I read when but a child at village school. 

It seems the raiment for an Emperor 
Was such mysterious weave that only those 
Who proved themselves of worth could view its 
sheen. 

The people, fearing punishment for lack 

Of worth, ashamed of inability 

To see the cloth, proclaimed it beautiful. 

The tailors talked and cut the unseen folds. 
>The Emperor, in pride, made bold to ride 
The gala streets, garmented—in naught! 

A child revealed their foolishness—no fear 
Had she of the, literally, naked truth! 

A King had ridden forth in underthings! 

And on we read—or ride; the kingly Mind 
Goes forth in nakedness that once was clothed 
In poet-weaves of wondrous phantasie, 

In royal moods and ’broideries of lovely dreams, 
And none stands forth to speak the simple truth. 


44 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


WILD CROCUSES OF ENGLAND 
A flash of flame! 

Who knows aright whence first it came? 

(The ground is dead and cold and hard.) 
So white it seems a silver shard, 

And still and stark it is as ice. 

A thousand gleams of flaring flame 
Gay crocuses like jewels displayed 

Prove Spring is here in glad parade! 

They now in golden hues arise, 

Like stolen stars, from heaven banned— 
Too filmy fine for mortal eyes, 

Too fairy fair for mortal hand— 

Too beautiful to understand! 

Their beaming blossoms blend and blaze— 
With elfin campfires mark the glade, 
Themselves fair, flower-hearted fays 
That down from Paradise have strayed! 

Oh, why hath heaven so fondly made 
The crocuses that star the shade? 

Such beauty to expand, and be— 

Oh, surely, they return to Thee! 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


45 


HER VEIL 

I. Her Interpretation 

She wears a veil! A ray of faylike, fluttering 
mist 

That flings a haze of mystery about her face, 

The filmy fabric of fair imaginings—love-kissed— 
A mystic mantle of fancy, and joy’s embodied 
grace, 

Enchanted net that closes fast the form of 
dreams— 

(And Force Invisible against the shards of 
Time!)— 

Suggesting bridal tulles that add their potent 
gleams 

To eyes that glow with hope and seek a world 
sublime— 

Suggesting, too, the rainbow tone of tears, a heart 
That spares itself the double woe of sharing 
sorrow, 

(The secret joy of holding sacred griefs apart), 
And mist-veiled mountain peaks from which to 
view each morrow. 

II. His Version 

She wears a veil! Initiate of mystery, 

Deceives our eyes, conceals, reveals both woe 
and song— 

But every line expounds her spirit’s history, 

Its lacy map explains wherein she’s weak or 
strong; 

No mortal man may comprehend a woman’s veil, 


46 KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 

Arachne’s web that casts its spell about some 



pale 

(A vigorous man of many noble deeds am I!)— 
With myriad subtleties beyond man’s range and 
mind 

Its haze excites a sweet mirage of tempting 
whim 

Until he finds himself a bondsman, veiled and 
blind; 

And thus she mystifies, entraps, and conquers 
him! 


THE SEAL 

When she was twenty-one he brought her flowers, 
Her father did. Although they lived quite poor 
He brought her roses, pink, with tapering buds, 
And maiden-ferns of tenderest allure. 

And on that cold and blasty night he came 
Back from the city, bent with awkward load 
(The ugly box, with Beauty’s soul inside), 

And thus he forged along the rutty road. 

Within their shabby rooms she opened it. 

He smiled! The fragrance filled the house- 
just so 

The beauty also filled their souls, 

So tired of trouble’s beating storms and snow. 



KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


47 


Upon the whitest wrapper he had written, 

With careful hand—she never shall forget— 
Her name in full, in clearest letters formed, 
And on that name a sacred seal was set. 

He wrote in ink, as though he wished to pen 
That name of hers in living gold—the years 
And dates were added in strong penmanship 
And, over all, the seal—the stain of tears! 


WILD CARROT 

As if to bleach upon the grassy hill, 

They spread—(delicate beyond belief), 

These lovely blossoms in the country sun, 

Each one a dainty pocket handkerchief 

Of lace, fastidious as the royal one 
Which, legends tell, was kissed by fair Queen 
Anne, 

Designed by choicest skill to meet her tastes, 

And tossed away because she loved—a man! 

I could never count them all nor name their 
charms— 

One tidy piece, so rare, might form a cap, 

A court-robe for a fairies 9 festival, 

Or apron for a busy elfin’s lap. 



48 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


A perfect luncheon set of many parts, 

Medallions for a princess ’ wedding gown, 

The curtains for a fairy bride ’s boudoir, 

A frothy valance for her bed of down. 

Why search the shops, securing trimmings new, 
And why not visit Nature’s market place? 
Heavily stocked with every rare design, 

And free to all who honor Beauty’s grace! 


THE ELECTRIC SPARK 

Comet-swift I speed! A Mercury of light! 

I cross the singing skies. I startle sleeping night. 
I crowd through crying space where gods have 
wandered far. 

Onward, onward! I fly with frenzied soul— 
To a changing, vanishing, nameless goal I 
speed! 

Shuttle-swift I fly! I pierce the glow of dawns 
Whose azure depths are bathed in faultless, flam¬ 
ing light. 

I wheel and spring across the spangled midnight 
skies; 

Then fleck a thousand horizons, and flash from 
sight. 

The rush of my swift, sure passing you cannot 
hear or heed; 

I fly past glowing cloudbeds soft, where rainbows 
sleep; 



KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 49 

Through strata of solid strength, motionless tides 
of air, 

Through cloud-caves dark and dank, where light¬ 
nings flash and leap. 

Past arch on arch of quivering, blending notes of 
blue, 

Through fiery domes made musical with gold and 
red; 

From timeless break of dawn I’ve pulsed these 
courses through. 

From such a home, in colors born, I first was sped. 

Light-endowed, I speed! My rhythms ring and 
rise. 

I’m color, song and light as I cover the endless 
main. 

I’m power, and warmth, and melody. I set men 
free— 

Hope’s embodiment—faith brought to life again. 

Matchless! The beat of Nature’s universal heart! 

The soul of me survives in all I try to do. 

Behold the bands of night and morning cross and 
part! 

I master time and space, bring God to spirit’s 
view. 

I falter—that beat of Nature’s universal heart 

Is born in man. He embarks to ride the farther 
skies. 

I fear yet love the quicker power of human mind. 

My strength he’ll harness well, my graces 
harmonize. 


50 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


I leave my greetings against the blazoned, dawn- 
striped darts, 

Evading man, my word is a startled and swift 
good-bye, 

Where the burning, turning track of my mad¬ 
dened, maddening flight 

Falls into the sparkling, streaming, gleaming mid¬ 
night sky. 

The Spirit of Speed, I pass! A Mercury in flight! 

I cross the pulsing deeps, and startle yearning 
night. 

I pass through the shining space where man seeks 
now his star. 

Onward, onward! I fly with frenzied soul— 
To a changing, vanishing, nameless goal I 
speed! 


THE BALANCES 
Despair 

All that I do or hope to do 
Is but a paltry counterfeit 
Of what I dream! 

That outer world— 

I cannot hope to master it— 

A blighted flower, yet furled! 

All that I pray or try to pray 
Is but a helpless, hopeless cry 
For what I crave— 

Oh, far-off God! 

Shall my poor pleadings find reply, 
As on I dumbly plod? 



KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


51 % 


Ecstasy 

All that I do or hope to do 
Is wondrous, quivering, sweet, 
A maddening dream— 
That inner world, 

A soul’s divine retreat, 

A flawless flower unfurled. 

All that I pray or try to pray 
Awakens a newer me, 

And all I wish I feel— 
Oh, present God! 

The beauty of life tides free— 
It's even a pleasure to plod! 


THE GYPSY LOVER 

Wild horses are racing to her—my spirit is riding, 

Riding through wind and water to my greatly 
beloved. 

The rap of my hand on her yellow-painted cart 

Is not so strong as my hearts great pounding— 
pounding: 

The mind in my head is a long parade of gypsies, 

With tambourines (and a pipe to utter my love). 

Thousands shall bring rich gifts of shining beauty. 

Her full, red skirt shall be covered with coins of 
value. 

And golden coins, in chains about her neck, 

Shall reach to the gay embroidered hem of her 
apron. 

For Katka: old money-belts and chains of jewels! 



52 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


With ribbons and bells on my horse, I shall come 
Bringing a mantle with gold and colors sewn in 
bravely 

To picture hopes of happy journeys together— 

I who ride through the arms of a bandit wind. 

If only my loving spirit, simple in essence,. 

Could pass to hers alone through secret voids, 
Through silence like ceremony, and greet her own, 
Two drops blended as one, two leaping flames 
United in perfect love. 


ORDER OUT OF CHAOS 

The luminous quality of hyacinths, 

The burnished glory of clean-scoured copper 
kettles, 

The fine-traced patterns in fresh-ironed linen, 

The silver dew on summer’s morning grasses, 
The flirtatious fandango steps of the tiny flicker, 
The peculiar symbolic color of raw wood— 

(First creamy and yellowish like certain dawns, 
Then ripe and golden like noon, then gray, 
the hue 

Of dusk, then velvety black, the tone of mid¬ 
night)— 

A thousand whimsical little enthusiasms 
Are mine, yet greater than all of these is one, 
Combining beauty, mystery and fancy— 

The luminous burning eyes of the girl I love— 
Fine-traced the lines, dancing the lights, and 
sweet 




KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 53 

Each change from dawn to midnight—combining 
all 

My choice, unspoken imaginings, my own 
And dearest whims, till everything I see 
And love, connects itself, focussed, ordered, with 
Her. 


CANADICE 

Your fine ideas of loveliness may class 
This friend in what you call a proper place, 

For here I canonize Miss Canadice, 

Although she has the plainest sort of face! 

Her teeth are always white, a little gleaming: 

Her scanty hair is done in manner neatly, 

Her eyes are bright, with candle-lights of love, 
And when she smiles, she does it most com¬ 
pletely ! 

Her clothes are poor, the simplest kind of frocks; 

Her coats were once the pride of an aged aunt, 
But, oh, how clean is everything she wears! 

Pd like to tell about it, but I can’t. 

Her hats? I never saw her with a new one. 

Her shoes are blacked—how commonplace this 
line, 

Her spotless blouse is very old and coarse; 

Her “walk” is dignified, supremely fine. 



54 KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 

Perhaps, so right in little, common things, 
She’ll come to fail in any greater task, 

But when you meet her on the village street, 
Her happy face is all that Life could ask. 

Her friends, so many, pass the time of day, 
Admire her courtesy, and praise her grace: 
A tempting lyric lives in her! Love shines 
From out her plain but most uncommon face! 


TRAVELIN’ 

No, Sir! I like the local trains the best! 

Them slower cars as steam from town to town, 
Where Mrs. Jones good-byes to Mrs. Brown 
And asks of grandma’s health, and all the rest. 

And little folks a-goin’ up and down 
The platform like they was perhaps possessed. 

Them local trains that haul from stop to stop 
With folks a-sayin’ “Hello” and “I’ll be 
blessed!” 

Gives travelin’ a sort of noble zest; 

I like to hear the sayin’s they often drop— 

How little Mamie’s frock was badly pressed, 
The way the County Nine came out on top! 

Them trains as pause at every pair of bars 
Will give you news about the Autumn crop— 

A kind a gay p ’rade without a stop, 

With all the actors just as good as stars— 

Onto the stage they come, and off they hop: 

I sure enjoys them local trains o’ cars. 



KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


55 


NOVEMBER—A MOOD 

The Rain lady rustles her silken skirts 
And tearfully taps our window-pane: 

She sighs and sobs till it almost hurts 
To think of her in the rain! 

Old gentleman Hail oft knocks on our walls, 
While little Miss Dew lies chilled in dead grass, 
And the Wind boy whistles and shrilly calls 
As the Rain lady taps our glass. 

The Frost fellow shivers outside our door 
And the Wind lad howls down our chimney flue. 
Shadows are shambling across our floor— 

Oh, what shall we do? 

(And they echo and sigh: 

“Oh, what shall we do?”) 


FISHERS 

The glassy river, smooth as any floor, 

Is deep: one notes the spine-mouthed bass go 
by 

Over gleaming stones, so bright they shine as 
gems; 

Ah, what a place to cast a spoon or fly! 

And fishers sit most happily about, 

Dropping their many lines. Breezily 
They nod. They never pull their prizes clear!— 
These willows taking life so easily. 



56 KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 

One dreams a legend: ardent fishers sat 
Holding their rods so long and comfortably 
That each became a bit of landscape there— 
Thus kin am I of the fishing willow tree! 

In greenish coat I sit and lazily 

I make a cast, oft pull a speckled trout, 

But when my arms seem shaped like those of trees 
It isn’t fear! One has to change about! 


SWIMMIN’ 

Hyah thar, Dirk—Pudd ’nhead, too! 

Hike erlong, Pickles, shake yer shoe! 

Miggles an’ Mikey an’ M’lissy’s half-brother! 
We’re goin’ swimmin’ or somethin’ or other! 
Beat it, Fringy, ole yaller pup, 

We’re goin’ swimmin’ whilst the sun’s het up! 
Mose erlong, Spikey, an’ no flam-flimmin’ 

For we’re off swimmin’, we’re off swimmin’! 

Snatch off yer shirt an’ snap off yer gallus, 
We’re goin’ swimmin’ (’n’ be spanked all callous). 
They’s crabs in th’ bottom! Off with yer shoe! 
Britches comes next—an’ in—goes—YOU! 

Pickles dives first! Fatty with a thud, 

Ha!—he bumps in wet, brown mud! 

Sumbudy guard! Look out fer th’ wimmin’— 
Fer we’re in swimmin’! Sure in swimmin’! 



KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


57 


Divin’ we goes, like shiny yellin’ fish, 

Eroun , an’ eroun , —seems like a dish— 

Here comes Spongy, tyin’ up our shirts— 
WE’LL CHAW BEEFSTEAK TILL IT 
HURTS! 

Comes erlong dad, lookin’ mighty glum— 

Thinks we’d orter bust erlong hum: 

Dad wants hustlin ’—no flam-flimmin ’— 

But we’ve been swimmin’! We’ve been swim- 
min’! 


BOYS 

“Ka-iau,” I hear the splitting cries, 

As if a tortured Indian dies 
In fiendish ecstasy, stark mad— 

Such voice no Indian ever had! 

Their beanie caps now fly about, 

They yell and yodel, shriek and shout; 

I know the joy in boisterous throats 
That burst with youth’s exuberant notes. 

The tangy odor of the air— 

The arrowy wind that lifts their hair— 

I know the tingle of such feet 

That tromp, that stomp along the street. 

“Ka-iau,” a flash, a burst of flame! 

Swift darts from boy to boy a name; 
They wigwag happy signals, calls, 

Till echoes cling to streets and walls. 



58 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


With joyous yips a yappy pup 
Nips feet that slyly trip him up; 

With bursting throats that shout and yell— 

My soul can understand them well! 

“Ka-iau!” I hear their tromping tread— 

(Be not as mummies, dry and dead!) 

They have their “oaths”—their secret “codes,” 
Their pockets filled with snakes and toads! 

Yes, in that pocket’s proud protection 
You’ll find a most unique “collection”— 

I know their world from living in it— 

Oh, don’t you feel its thrill this minute? 

The pulse, the throb, the vimmy “feel” 

Possess my body, head to heel— 

In spirit I, with noisy feet 
Am tromping, with them, down the street! 


THE BANSHEE 

Weird as shadow-trembling woods at night, 
Where weaving figures move in half-light fog; 
Deep as hidden vaults deprived of light, 

That chill, and ghoulish, lonely bog. 

A faint clear moan across the quicksand steals, 
A tremulous cry comes in from seeming far, 

A moving light! One’s very soul congeals 1 
Oh, tell me what and who you are! 



KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


59 


Vain to act alone, futile to call 
Across that sullen moor so wrapped in night, 
Perhaps I’ll find at last I’ve dreamed it all— 
God’s loving pity in such plight. 

(A wandering sheep beneath the sinking sand, 

A stranger fallen low, in sad distress. 

I dare not go, as sight and sound command 
A story for each fleeting guess.) 

I haste for help—and then I’m told, at night 
A banshee moves across that vacant place, 
And none shall raise a voice nor fetch more light, 
Nor scathless show a human face. 

I’m almost glad, because the story’s odd, 
Romantic, too, that misty, chilly moor— 

I count full many a tale of de’il and God; 

But run, although I fare secure. 


AN INTERVIEW WITH WINTER 

I stepped to the door of Winter and knocked with 
a silver knocker; 

I found the dear gentleman smiling and tippling 
his favorite wine; 

His quaint little wife was knitting, a-sitting there 
in a rocker— 

And so they asked me to join them—in an hour 
or so they would dine. 

“Our Colonial house, you will notice (so simple, 
and cozy—all white!) 

Is made for my family and friends: I’m certain 
you’ll find in it pleasure. 



60 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


I’ve stored the riches of springtime, the sum¬ 
mer^ sweetest delight; 

The harvest of bountiful Autumn in very riot¬ 
ous measure. 

“I am ashamed when people say sadly that ‘Win¬ 
ter is poor and forsaken’; 

Astonished that papers declare I’m ‘a person 
in rags and in tatters!’ 

Take down each word in detail and show they are 
greatly mistaken; 

(Of course, if they will not believe it, I cannot 
acknowledge it matters.) 

We shall drink of our wine all alone, though much 
we prefer a good crowd, 

For my feast-halls are huge and are open to 
banquet—the finest and best. 

A palace! So stately yet bright in ways of which 
I am proud— 

Oh, write in gay, glowing terms of my larders 
and games and the rest! 

“My place is built to delight in, and I’m a ca¬ 
pricious old fellow 

I have offered the jewels of the night-time, such 
stars as adorn my bright portals, 

And have borrowed the beauties of day—oh, my 
fruits are tempting and mellow: 

And yet, people call me a beggar, if only they’d 
look, the gay mortals, 

Why, Winter is rich beyond dreaming—report 
this interview clearly— 

I have garnered the year at its best and have 
gathered the choicest of pelf, 

And here in this mansion of white, I’ll show the 
things men love dearly, 

And better than fruits of the year is the way I 
can show you yourself!” 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


61 


THE WHITE FLOWER 

Out of the placenta of earth, the womb of the bulb, 
Life vividly came; 

From the blackness of death, the crust of the soil, 
blades of green flame: 

From groupings of leaves, like sentinel shards, 
white fire set to flight 

For the spirit of man, that deep, hidden place— 
a thrill of delight. 

Thus through his darkness an altar fire casts its 
beams on his night. 


THE AMERICAN HUSBAND WRITES A 
SONNET 

To Her Beauty 

Today the “Artlure Pictures” came: 
Some lovely Botticelli prints 
In what alluring springtime tints!— 

A fine—but sallow—Rembrandt dame, 
Two modern things I cannot name— 

A saint whose halo almost glints; 

In one, a Bowery damsel squints. 

Beside your beauty, art were tame, 

For yours is witching loveliness— 

That springtime color and that hair, 
Minerva’s helmet, burnished gold, 

The smile that’s mine, one long embrace 1 
In simplest frocks you well compare 
With works of art, both new and old. 



62 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


THE BABY 

Soft and fragrant—sweet odor of crumbs, 
A loaf that’s sanctified: I’ve kissed 
Those feet with cracker-cooky dimples, 

But thought the while of the Eucharist. 

Wee, upward-reaching hands of his, 
Flower-fair. (What cunning nose!) 
Unfolding bud of human life, 

Symbolic of the Holy Bose. 

The eyes, proverbial gleaming stars, 
Wondering eyes, untroubled, blue, 

And may they ever show to us 
Best qualities of heavens true 

What tiny triangle of a mouth! 

To me a symbol of accuracy, 

The Good, the True, the Beautiful 
Repeating life’s great Trinity. 

Question marks for little ears, 

And inquisitive voice to waken me, 
Divinest labor of motherhood: 

To guide that curiosity! 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


63 


THE SEAMSTRESS 

My joy is here—a whirring, old machine; 

From fresh-cut cloth it stitches tempting 
clothes— 

Wee frocks of blue, and velvet coats—dark green; 
And wistful blouses, mauve, and gray, and rose. 

I fancy children there upon the floor, 

And dream the way these things’ll look when 
worn: 

Each snowy petticoat, and pinafore— 

And pantaloons, before they’re badly torn. 

I dream that girls in stately, lighted houses 
Have decked themselves in frocks that I have 
made, 

In giddy gowns, in soft and bloom-like blouses, 
With all my stitches beautifully laid. 

I often feel these people close to me, 

Reporting this or that they deem as good— 
And through such dreams and work, I almost see 
Myself enjoying sacred motherhood. 


THE SUBCONSCIOUS 

In fragrant Silences that Spirit knows 
Where slumber Memories of Long-agos, 

In halls of twilight gray and sunrise fawn, 

With opals friezed and flecked with tint-of-dawn, 
I’ve stowed apart my many Gone-befores 
Beyond the Corridors where close a Thousand 
Doors. 



64 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


And every Noble Effort I gently place 
Among the Dreams-that-time-cannot-efface: 

The Place-I-hide-my-thoughts is not a tomb 
x4nd even Sorrow finds a sunny room. 

No Royal Treasuries could ever show 

Such wonders as the mystic Halls of Long-ago. 

Gay, trifling Things-of-Youth are laid aside 
Along with Ardors hot and some of Foolish Pride: 
And so my Yesterdays are safe from fate 
And only Love unlocks the Palace Gate: 

It's here I keep my Hope-of-light-denied 

And here, among old Joys, my Fairy Princes bide. 


INTROSPECTION 

Gracia Smith will pass this afternoon 
In paisley silk with thistle-purple hat, 

And Rhoda Morrissy will don her pink, 

More deeply dyed each spring to hide the wear, 
But here I dust the library, gaze on mother 
As if perhaps she’d become thin air—I think of— 
Myself—this all has happened before. 



KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


65 


Yes! certain things are always the same— 

This, and this, as if for endless ages 

They’d repeated themselves, times in and out: 

A wounded dog howling in the alley, 

A strident voice, a yelling hoy, a huckster 
Calling to a crouching man against our hedge; 
The blatant dazzle of a cherry petticoat; 

The giddy chatter of girls along the street— 
David and Caesar knew them all—so I— 

I wonder if springtime opens the pores of thought 
The way that mine are open, as if a draft 
Of ideas had come from otherwheres. I shiver. 
The day is beckoning to us—mother 
As well as I—the vivid-shining dews 
Upon the pansies, the twinkling eyes of the boys; 
The flower-pink baby that watches moving hands; 
My father’s courtly bow as he greets my mother 
And walks soldierlike among the trees: 

How the sun is drinking drops from leaves on our 
porch. 

How father and mother enter the stair-hall, smil¬ 
ing 

The sunny way that brings up tears of wonder; 
The flush upon my sister’s happy cheeks! 

It never happens often enough! It’s always new! 
I fear such beauty will never happen again. 


66 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


BEAUTY-MAD 

Oh, Beauty, the days are delightfully mad 
With the glorious passion of life, 

When for sheer joy every heart overflows 
And souls are with happiness rife— 

When fairy-green buds are misting the trees, 
’Neath which blossoms soon will be snowing, 
When every tender breath of a breeze 
Brings—but my heart’s overflowing— 

My soul with happiness sings. 

When the dun meadows are mantling green, 
Like the bud-misted branches above them, 
Through which the blueness of sky now floods 
With—oh, how I love them, love them! 

Birds, in the delicate branches and twigs, 

Which thread the budding tree’s glory, 

Sway with their warblings of warm-hearted love— 
Pause, while we hear the bird’s story— 

They sing out their hearts and we love them. 

“Nothing in common,” you mournfully say? 

Nothing to share with the flowers? 

Nothing to tell the mad beauty of Spring? 

How we delight in the hours— 

Hours which in their color and song, 

Fragrant with onflow of breezes, 

Bear in our mem’ries our souls far along, 

With a song which the glad spirit pleases: 
“Love is for both—for people and flowers.” 

This song, the loving heart pleases. 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


67 


THE PASSING LADY 
(An Orphan Speaks ) 

4 4 How sweet you are—your lips are red, 

A pretty cap sits on your head: 

Your eyes like golden buckles shine— 

I wish that you were mine, all mine—MY mother! 

4 4 1 need you so—you butterfly. 

Your dress is like a sunny sky, 

The dayshine loves your fairy hair— 

I’d like to see you in a chair—MY mother! 

44 Your feet, they dance along the walk; 

Your voice, it flutters when you talk. 

Your hands are just like pinky flowers— 

I wish you’d hold me hours and hours—MY 
mother! 

44 But then you go and now you’re gone— 

Not even left to look upon; 

My throat feels lumpy, hard and dry— 

I wonder if—I think I’ll cry—My mother! 0, my 
mother! 

4 4 Oh, passing lady, turn your head, 

With fairy hair and lips of red. 

You’re patterned sweetly, quite divine— 

What voice speaks out— 4 You’re mine, all mine— 
MY mother!’ 

4 4 Have you no toddling, pink-lipped son, 

With future fair from night stars won? 

Do dimpled hands and kisses wet 
Proclaim that kindred souls have met?—0, 
mother! 


68 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


“What means this beauty you bravely wear? 

Is life not glorious to share 
Your joys with the little folks of thine 
Who love to whisper, 4 Mine, all mine—MY 
mother!’ ” 


ULTIMATUM 

You cannot quite destroy our dreams of some 
tomorrow: 

There is the Eternal Principle within each soul. 

You cannot tie our memories to any sorrow 

And say that there is not for us the Shining 
Goal! 

You cannot really tell when our times are coming 
fast— 

Thank God, there is not truly any “end of 
things. ’’ 

You cannot say that we are slaves to any past, 

Nor can you ever clip the spirit’s beating wings. 

What of woes that happen throughout a strug¬ 
gling life? 

Of sad and miserable events we would not tell? 

They prove old cloaks to cast aside: we meet the 
strife— 

(It is for us to rise, as He has ordered well.)— 

And what of trifling days? Of foolish hours ill- 
spent? 

Of miseries we caused? Mistakes we blindly 
made? 



KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


69 


Each mystic test was wisely, beautifully sent 

To make the spirit sweet, dauntless, unafraid. 

It is we y through Him, can raise the soul to fur¬ 
ther skies— 

The shadowing past becomes for us a robe of 
truth! 

For us the triumphs, joys, and we at last arise 

From youth to age, and fare from age to endless 
youth! 

No fear of yesterdays! Our lives are free to¬ 
morrows ! 

Our thoughts of good will shine when all are far 
from here— 

For us the power to choose, to overcome our sor¬ 
rows! 

That every day will herald in a glad New Year! 


OUR LAND FOR LIBERTY 


I 

How joyously in Heaven’s light, our star-filled 
Banner bids us be : 

“For God, and Land, and Mind to Understand— 
in RIGHT is Liberty.” 

Earth’s golden shores are beauty-kissed, 
Her wood-girt mountains veiled in mist; 
Her fruitful plains are sun-caressed, 
Her lakes and rivers, rainbow-blessed: 
She fast one Nature-bond sustains; 



70 


KINGDOM BEAUTIFUL 


From towering mounts to tossing mains 
Her voices sing eternally, 

Love’s Light to bring, Truth’s Torch to fling— 
That RIGHT is Liberty. 

Author of Peace, our spirits kneel: 

Teach us all to help and heal, 

May we each that Great Bond feel—Thy 
RIGHT, our Liberty. 

II 

How glorious, in Truth’s fair Light, our Red- 
striped Streamer flying free: 

“One God, one Land, each Soul at His command 
—Whose RIGHT wins Liberty.” 

The folk who claim it come from far 
And build our Nation, star by star; 

May goodness through each one arise 
From life-striped land to star-crest skies: 
To save Thy living peoples, we, 

Upholding Love, pledge Life to Thee— 

When humans bleed to be more free, 

Then shall we plead, then will we lead—For 
RIGHT and Liberty. 

Father of Love, to Thee we pray: 

Help us meet each new Today, 

Guide us in Thy Good, True Way—Thy 
RIGHT, to Liberty. 


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